I stole/borrowed the “Things I Promised Not to Tell” concept from a political podcaster but, if this becomes a series, I promise it will not ever be about politics. Instead it will feature vignettes from my personal, non-photographic life that may or may not have made me into the man that i am today. This also may or may not have have been inspired by my upcoming birthday on Tuesday, May 21 as I start to comfortably slide into geezerhood.
Today’s Special Post by Joe Farace
Sing us a song, you’re the piano manSing us a song tonightWell, we’re all in the mood for a melodyAnd you’ve got us feelin’ alright—Billy Joel
This story begins with a piano sitting in my grandparent’s living room, or parlor as they might have called it back then. Sometime in my young life, my parents moved our family from a rented house on Hoffman Street in Baltimore to my grandmother’s home after my grandfather, Sam, passed away. It was around this same time that I started to become interested in music. In that selfsame living room. Grandmother Farace had an RCA Victrola, with the big acoustic horn where the sound to come out of. It was not electric and had to be manually cranked to operate. She also had a small collection of 78rpm records, although I must confess that my favorite was the Woody Woodpecker Song performed by Kay Kyser’s Orchestra.
On the opposite wall sat an upright piano. I’m pretty sure that my Dad never played it but my Uncle Bernie was musically inclined and played a guitar, so it’s likely that he was the one who played this piano at some point. Or maybe it was played by my Aunt Rose, although I never saw anyone play it, at least until I came along. Somewhere about this time, my Mom noticed my interest in music and arranged for piano lessons from one of the nuns at my school. Like the rest of the school, the music teacher belonged to the order of the Sisters of St. Francis. Although I’ve never been an especially religious person I was always a fan of St. Francis of Assisi because he’s known for his care for nature and animals, And so the piano in the living room started to get used—by me for practice on—all of which led to my debut as a pianist and like many such turns in my life, it didn’t go exactly how I thought.
My Musical Debut
I turned out that the nun who was my fifth grade teacher at St. Catherine of Siena school in Baltimore had the idea for Halloween that the students in her class who were taking piano lessons would play a song for the class on the upright piano that sat in the front of the classroom. Three of us were selected to perform and I chose a song entitled “The Black Cat” from the book of music used in my lessons, although I had never played it before and don’t think I even rehearsed with it, which is very Joe-style.
Show Time
The first student to play was a girl who played like a virtuoso and her performance and keyboard stylings were impressive. After she finished playing, we all applauded her and then it was my turn. Sight reading is the ability to play unfamiliar music directly from a written score and is an extremely valuable skill for musicians. Me? I was kind of good at it and my skills were particularly in play until when I got about halfway though the song. Then I lost my place but kept on playing anyway like I know what I was doing, emulating Baltimore’s own gift to Jazz, Eubie Blake, not that my dribbling on the keys could be compared to that musical genius. I ended the performance of what might have been a song and spun around on the stool only to be greeted not by jeers or silence but instead received the same kind of applause as the girl who could really play, although I think the boys in the class lead the applause. I was so dazed I don’t even knew what the third student, who I’m sure, was a talented girl, played or how she did, but I guess from the efforts my feeble attempts produced she probably got a solid round of applause too. If so, good for her.
Over time my parents could no longer afford to pay for my piano lessons and even later we moved from my grandmother’s home on Montford Avenue—the same street I had been born on, just down the street a few blocks—and moved to East Baltimore. During that time my interest in music only intensified and while I loved popular music, while working part time at a record store I discovered classical music all of which had to do with a crush I had on a cute girl who also worked in the store. But that, along with more recent piano hopes and dreams, are stories for another time…